


Before the parade passes by

by eddie_martha



Category: Golden Girls
Genre: Aging, Exhaustion, F/F, First Smut Fic, Lovers, You agree?, could i just metion how sincerely hot Bea Arthur was, have fun reading, pondering, rated explicit to make me write up to it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:28:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24952351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eddie_martha/pseuds/eddie_martha
Summary: Dorothy's exhausted from work and keeps pondering about everything and nothing. Sometimes one should stop thinking and "get some life back into [one's] life"*, right?*Quote and title from my favorite song from "Hello Dolly!" - "Before the parade passes by".
Relationships: Blanche Devereaux/Dorothy Zbornak
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Before the parade passes by

**Author's Note:**

> So, "here you are again with me"*,
> 
> this is about to become my first smut-fic. I rated it explicit to make myself write something deserving of the title. As usual: remarks, critique, comment, kudos etc. welcome and highly appreciated. 
> 
> In case you want some music to go along with this: I was listening to "I found you" by Alabama Shakes. No, no, I'm not gettin' any money for advertising music. I'll take it, if someone wants to pay me, though. 
> 
> Ok, enough of the late-night-sleepy-head-chit-chat!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this and wish you a "Good morning, good evening, good night"**
> 
> Yours,  
> Eddie
> 
> * Listen to that song performed by The Hot Sardines. Just do it. Really, go, I'll wait for ya. Loved it? Told ya.  
> ** Ted Weems and His Orchestra. Will boost you mood immediately.

Dorothy was spent. Completely and utterly spent. The last weeks had been exhausting. Sure, she loved her job. Teaching was her passion, tried and true, no doubt about that. And it was her greatest joy, when she had the chance to see a class through a whole term. The deepening relationships with the students made teaching so much more than just passing on knowledge, even though that was pretty great a thing in itself. But, boy, those kids really kept her on her toes.

Dorothy could tell, she was aging. Thirty years ago she would have come home tired but still with enough energy take care of her own three kids. Now she came home and all she wanted to do was eat, take shower and read a bit before turning off the lights. She groaned. When did she become this old? She had always been a homebody, but this? Maybe Blanche was right, it was _pathetic_. _What was even more pathetic_ in her dazzling friends opinion, _was that she’d been home to watch_.

Dorothy smirked at the indignation Blanche had uttered those words with. That accent! Who other than Blanche actually spoke like that? Dorothy secretly believed that Blanche had made at least half of that all-over-the-top-hyper-dramatic-southern-belle-accent up. And the words she used! _Magnolia trees_? _The air thick with perfume_? _Words that could dry out the Mississippi_? Or was it _words that could dry the mornin’ dew on the leaves of an old magnolia tree_ and _peaches ripening by the lazy Mississippi_? Dorothy couldn’t remember.

Who could think of those things other than Blanche? Her fantasy was quite something. Not only concerning the colorful phrases: Dorothy had entertained the suspicion that Blanche actually made up at least half of her romantic encounters, too, for quite a long time. Who could have that much sex? Or even want to?

Dorothy shook her head briefly at the thought of how it would have been to have sex with Stanley as often as Blanche claimed she slept with someone. Brrrr… No, no, no. Stanley had been a solid lover but… Dorothy could think of so many buts. Her lack of trust, her lack of interest after a long day of working, chores and kids… Maybe they hadn’t tried enough to have really good sex. Well, she sighed as she sat down on her bed, pulling back the sheets. What use was it, to think about it now? They were divorced and that was that.

Once settled comfortably, she reached at the nightstand for the book she was currently reading. Yet her thoughts kept wandering. Her later sexual encounters, after the marriage with Stan, had been quite pleasant, Dorothy had to admit. That one time with Ken, the lawyer/clown… She giggled. Or Glen. Glen the gorgeous gym teacher she had had _The Affair_ with, as the Girls called it She had really enjoyed herself back then. The things they had done… Without her noticing the book sank down into her lap.

How comfortable he had made her feel! Her body had always been a source of self-consciousness, if only due to her height, but 60 years of age, the pregnancies and then menopause on top had left her very insecure. But Glen, he had given her the impression that all the faults and flaws didn’t matter, that for once, she, Dorothy Zbornak, was the most beautiful and desirable woman in the world. As Dorothy absentmindedly stared into the distance a fond smile grew on her face. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, longing for that feeling to come back.

Yawning she noticed the book in her lap. Might as well sleep, she thought putting away the book. Had Glen be _it_ for her? _The_ man? Her best lover? Well, yes, sure... until now. Dorothy stopped half way reaching over to her lamp. Until now? Where did that thought come from? What was still to come? Well, she wasn’t _that_ old. Maybe it was time to think about her own wishes more.

So, taking up her sharp analytical forces: what could be improved? No, too technical, Dorothy corrected herself, what did she _want_? Was there something she wished for? She had never had explicit fantasies, no bucket list of bedroom experiments she wanted to conduct.

No, it wasn’t some specific sexual practice she wanted yet to experience. But she was onto something here, there was a sense of… of what? Something lacking? As if her favorite symphony hadn’t been well conducted, like last week in the concert. She had been looking forward to Beethoven’s fifth and seventh symphony for days. Ever since Blanche had given her the tickets. Blanche had wanted to go on a fishing trip with some lawyer, so she had generously handed the tickets to Dorothy saying something about how Dorothy should get herself a man to go with and so on. But Dorothy had decided against that. She had treated herself with an evening just for herself and Ludwig’s beloved masterpieces.

And then the brilliant conductor who always managed to bring the music alive in the exact way Dorothy would do it if she could, had fallen sick. His replacement had been a huge disappointment. Was it really so hard to build up the tension? When music, especially when those particular symphonies were conducted with the right spirit Dorothy would feel like on a rollercoaster. She would forget everything around her. Her feelings would stir up and explode inside of her, like fireworks. Kind of like sex. Wait, did she really get more pleasure out of a symphony by a dead man than by sleeping with a man who was alive? Oh, Dottie, you gotta sleep, you just gotta sleep, she murmured.

**Author's Note:**

> Please, just listen to the two mentioned pieces of music. Shut out and off everything else, get comfortable and listen. Let it sink in. Go with the flow, feel the energy behind it and the thousand different emotions it carries. Give yourself over to a stubborn, tightfisted, grumpy genious with crazy hair for a moment. You won't regret it. I promise.
> 
> What do you think? What could have been done better? I really enjoy writing these, but I kinda feel like running against a wall. I'd love to get better, so if you have any hints, comments, please, please, please let me know. Thanks.


End file.
